


Forever

by conniptionns



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 20:56:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13466394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conniptionns/pseuds/conniptionns
Summary: This is sort of Aaron being confused about his feelings for Matt.





	Forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainbowshoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowshoes/gifts).



> Most of the time I black out while I'm writing. That's not right. Writing is an out of body experience for me. Have you ever thought about doing something that is involuntary and realized that you forgot how to do it? Like blinking? Fuck. I forget how to do that all the time because I think about it. Anyway, I did that with my writing. It was like "do I write like an actual story or is this just a stream of consciousness thing that makes no sense?" So I was then painfully aware of the writing process, and I was trying too hard. Me, over here blinking weird like a dumbass because I mentioned that, and also writing like a dumbass because???
> 
> So, this is shit, BUT. It was a warmup Aatt. @WingsofWax, but literally that lil b inspired me so much, how could I NOT.
> 
> I would die for their Aatt and I hope to one day write Aatt that you guys would die for, too.

Aaron never thought his life would be like this.

He was sitting criss-cross in the middle of the court waiting for Matt to show up for practice. It smelled faintly of sweat and industrial strength cleaners. He secretly loved the new stadium. Thanks to their amazing previous season, PSU had built a new stadium—indoor this time. Aaron didn’t miss the grass, it was itchy as fuck and they always spray painted it a hideous green because the unforgiving South Carolina sun killed everything but crabgrass and PSU killed that. The floor looked wood but it had too much bounce for Aaron to call it that. Kevin had made them run sprints and the slight give to it was heaven on his shit knee.

So he was sitting on the bouncy, wood floor waiting for Matt because he was the only other backliner Aaron would practice with. Neil was an exy freak and Sheena was probably a vampire that would kill Aaron first chance she got.

Aaron kicked his legs out in front of him, bouncing his heels to get the blood flowing back through them. The black trainers were a birthday present from Randy. Aaron still didn’t know how he felt about them. He hadn’t quite cried, but it had been a close thing. Andrew didn’t give birthday gifts, just threw things at his chest whenever he thought Aaron needed something. Nicky couldn’t afford much, usually taking him out to dinner. The shoes were from Exites and Aaron knew they were more than one hundred dollars, but Randy had brushed her lips on his hair and said she couldn’t wait to see them on ESPNexy. How could Aaron take them back after that?

So he didn’t know how to feel. He bounced his feet, being careful not to scuff the shoes on the floor. The Foxes didn’t feel like family, but they felt like something. It was almost like he finally had his place in the world. It was poetry at its finest that he could thank Andrew for where he was—well, he could thank Nicky, too.

The thing about Aaron was, if Kevin was a 10 on the Good at Exy scale, Aaron was a 3—and a half if he was being generous and he usually wasn’t. Aaron’s thing was science. He sort of figured out his passion for the sciences wasn’t average when he was thrilled to be doing Punnett Squares and Stoichiometry and not one other person was with him.

He might be a 3 on the court but he was definitely at least a 9 when it came to science—because no one is perfect, right? The only problem with that was he was fucking around on drugs throughout high school and his grades weren’t exactly a reflection of that 9.

The only reason Aaron was at PSU was being Andrew was one stubborn son of a bitch; who definitely hated Aaron, Aaron had decided. But some promise Aaron had made high out of his mind was enough to get him into college. He almost wished he remembered what he had agreed to. For the most part he knew what he had agreed to, but sometimes Andrew would look at him, without feeling, squinting just the slightest, and Aaron would wonder how he was a disappointment this time.

Aaron startled out of his thoughts when the doors to the court bust open when Matt slammed into the push bar.

“I’m late.” Matt’s usual spikes were missing, wet hair flopping into his eyes.

Aaron surveyed him. It was out of the goodness of Aaron’s heart that he didn’t mention to Matt that he had two different shoes on.

“You are late, but that’s okay. We’ll tell Kevin you were on time, then we can practice less.”

The worst thing about Matt being as good natured as a golden retriever was the puppy dog eyes that accompanied his lethal pout.

“Christ, already,” Aaron laughed, “you’re forgiven! As if you were in trouble in the first place."

Matt gave him a smile so bright it rivaled the sun. He bounded forward to fistbump Aaron, but Aaron instinctively went up for a high-five. When Matt’s fist met his open palm, a splotchy blush covered Aaron’s cheeks.

“Damn, snailed my ass,” Matt said. He jostled Aaron gently and dropped his open duffel to the floor.

While he pulled his knee pads out of the bag, Aaron walked a short distance away and rubbed his clammy palms on his shorts. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Matt definitely didn’t look at him the way Andrew did and he didn’t know what it meant.

Whatever Andrew’s issue with him, it obviously wasn’t enough to warrant any major changes in his life. Andrew had only asked him to go to Bee once, and when Aaron had vehemently refused, Andrew never brought it up again. Although, some part of Aaron just wanted somebody to give a shit about him. Andrew’s apathy made Aaron crave to lash out, but anyone who had taken an Intro to Psych class would know that that was just Aaron crying out for attention.

Aaron Minyard wasn’t exactly the type of person to cry out for attention. Or, well, he hadn’t since his mother died. He knew what that would get him.

When Matt straightened, Aaron grabbed his racquet and the bucket of balls and walked toward the goal that was painted in a bold orange stripe along the wall.

“All right, let’s bring our A game,” Matt said, stretching his arms over his head. His practice jersey rose to bare the tank top Matt wore stuffed into his shorts. It made Aaron blush and he didn’t know why, it was a fucking shirt.

“We have a second string,” Aaron deadpanned. He was hyper aware of every sound that was echoing in the court. Matt’s nose whistled slightly when he breathed out. He was probably getting a cold. The fact that Aaron noticed made him want to choke. He felt like he was more in his head than he was in the present.

“Bruh, we have a championship ring. We’re the ‘92 Dream Team, baby.” Matt began warmups and Aaron was too lightheaded to say he was born in ‘93.

They ran through drills that were so familiar that Aaron could do them in his sleep, which was lucky because he didn’t know if he could pass an Intro to Biology test right now. When they decided to play a little one on one, Aaron shook himself out of whatever was wrong with him. He was probably just annoyed at Matt who was bouncing from foot to foot, muttering “Dream team! Let’s go, yeah!” over and over.

It was Aaron’s distinct and way too vindictive pleasure to prove that he had damn well earned the half that he had added to his 3. Matt was definitely an 8. He was good and Aaron could see him making court one day. But he would be damned if Matt was going to beat him in practice.

Whatever irrational being ruled Aaron was under the impression that if Aaron lost the scrimmage, whatever undefined feelings he had yet to work through would be laid bare on the court. It was the hardest Aaron had ever played.

Every time Aaron’s net snatched the ball out of the air and he tried to volley it past Matt, he thought his arms were going to follow the ball down the court. He was acutely aware of how much he was sweating. Matt was barely breaking a sweat and Aaron thought that maybe eating like Andrew wasn’t going to be conducive to keeping this, whatever it was, a secret from Matt. His legs were dead weights attached to his body but he kept trudging forward.

“Time!” Matt called, breathless.

They both made their way over to the bags and dropped to the ground next to them. Matt was gasping so much while he drank, Aaron was sure he was going to give himself hiccups, gas, or both.

“Fuck, lil shrimp. I’ve got long ass legs but I think I had more trouble booking it across the court than you,” Matt complained.

Aaron shoved Matt, trying to be mean, but Matt was too accomodating and just laid down.

“Don’t call me shrimp, asshole.”

“Mm,” Matt hummed. “If you’re trying to turn me on with the pet names, it’s working.”

“I hate you oh my god.”

“I’m just fucking with you.” Matt was laughing at him.

Aaron didn’t want to think about why he couldn’t make eye contact with him and he definitely didn’t want to think about the knot of fear that was choking him. Matt didn’t notice, and for that, Aaron was grateful.

Matt started gesturing before he found the energy to talk. Aaron still wouldn’t look at him. “If you squint, A-money, you’ll see we shine way too bright.”

Aaron closed his eyes and laid on his back. The fluorescent lights overhead were bright pink spots in the darkness. He should have tried when he was back in school, then, he could be at any other state college. Maybe he would have gone to college in Columbia and kept working at Eden’s Twilight. He never would have to sit here and worry about all of the shit he was worrying about now.

Or maybe if he had never gotten into that shit back in California, his mom wouldn’t have pulled him out of school and carried him across the country. He didn’t even want to think about the reason she had brought him closer to her brother. He had seen the pamphlets on the fridge before his Aunt Maria could hide them. His gut clenched whenever he thought about what they put Nicky through. What they had wanted to put Aaron through.

“Hey, Air?” Matt asked, voice much softer than before, lacking the teasing undertone, and the nickname to boot. Aaron rolled over to look at him.

“Life is fucked up, Matty.”

“This might be true.” Matt ran his fingers over the mottled scars on the crease on his elbow. “No, yeah, life is definitely fucked up, but you know what?” He looked up to meet Aaron’s eyes, he raised an eyebrow in lieu of response.

“When life is failing, you’re my cheat sheet.” Matt said it with such conviction that the _that’s gay_ remark didn’t make it past his lips.

Aaron wished that there was some part of himself to give to Matt in the same way, but all he could say was:

“I don’t wanna live forever in this world of shit. Things can’t stay like this.”

Matt didn’t respond. Aaron eventually closed his eyes and rolled back onto his back. He assumed Matt was still watching him, but the look in his eyes made Aaron feel stripped naked and he was afraid he found a look worse than the dead look in Andrew’s eyes.

“All right,” Matt said eventually. Aaron peeked one eye at him. “Let’s go, buddy.” He stood up and offered him a hand. Aaron hesitated a moment. Matt was so tall standing over him, and Aaron was scared for the briefest second. He had always hated how unsafe being so little made him.

After his initial fear, he realized that Matt’s body language was too open to truly be afraid of him. That was possibly scarier. Aaron offered up the wrong arm, irrationally afraid to clasp hands with Matt. Matt just grabbed Aaron’s forearm and hauled him to his feet, making Aaron’s belly flip.

They were quiet while they showered, two empty shower stalls between them. It wasn’t unusual for Aaron to be pensive after practice, usually thinking about what length of nap he could squeeze in before he went to the science library until the kicked him out, but it was entirely other for Matt to be silent. He was irrationally terrified that Matt was angry at him for what he had said. He stuck his arm out from behind the curtain into the dry half of the stall to dig around in his bag for his phone. He exited out of his EDM playlist and clicked a Top 40’s playlist, hoping he could tempt Matt into singing into the shower. The first two singers made Aaron’s ears bleed but by the third, Matt was singing over the tinny music pouring out of Aaron’s shitty speakers.

Aaron breathed for what felt like the first time in his life. He squeezed out a handful of bright blue Old Spice into his hand. Every song that Matt sang along to served to loosen Aaron’s muscles slowly and completely. While Aaron toweled off, smile almost on his face, he queued up the macarena.

 _Dale a tu cuerpo alegria Macarena_.

“Oh _fuck_ yes,” Matt crowed, slamming around in his shower stall. Aaron could only assume his long ass arms were whacking all of the things he had hanging up in the small stall. When Matt jumped, Aaron heard his shower shoes squelch and his hands shoot out to steady himself against the stall wall.

“Matthew Donovan, no jumping on the wet floor. I’m not a doctor _yet_ ,” Aaron teased.

“Ah! He says yet!” He slid open his lock. There was a slight shuffle and Matt’s long fingers wrapped over the top of Aaron’s stall door before he dropped his weight and held himself up by his fingers.

“Yes, yet, moron.” When Aaron unlocked the door it immediately swung open towards him, Matt pushing it open with his dead weight.

“I’m glad it’s a yet, Aaron Michael,” Matt said with a smile in his voice.

Aaron didn’t bother mentioning that his caveat was _if things stay the same_. If he magically became less fucked up, he would happily live forever, or at least like, until he was seventy.

“Buffalo Wild Wings?” Matt asked, he sounded like a hopeful little boy, and even though their wings were shit, Aaron found himself agreeing. Matt barreled into as many dad-esque jokes he could. Shit like they were going to cause a stampede. “Get it Aaron? A stampede. Because buffalos?”

“Matt, how many times do I have to tell you? If you have to explain the joke, it’s not funny.”

Matt swung their bags into the bed of his truck. “Man, tough crowd. Get in, tough crowd, I’ll break your resolve yet!” he promised.

Aaron took a moment once he got into the cab to appreciate how tall Matt’s truck made him feel. That was quickly killed by the horrific dancing Matt was doing across the bench seat. He felt enough like himself to give Matt shit.

“I’ll have you know, I dance best in a seat while you’re making fun of me.” Matt’s grin was infectious and Aaron smiled down at his lap.

Matt had a way of making Aaron forget that he had money, that his family had money. The shoes Aaron had changed into were worn in the sole from where his feet dragged the pavement. He liked to tell himself he had nothing to prove, but all of his jeans were black because they hid dirt better. As Matt sang over the radio, the street turned into a gray blur in front of them. The open windows let air rip through the cab and it made Aaron feel a bone deep chill. He inched closer to Matt’s warmth and wished he could sail away. He meant what he had said, his part of the world was shit and if things didn’t change, Aaron didn’t know what he was going to do.

But then Matt looked over and smiled at him again, and Aaron thought maybe it would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> If you can guess what song this is structured after, you get a gold star.
> 
> Catch me over @exychamp
> 
> I'm supposed to be translating Middle English for class tomorrow. I wanna SLEEP.


End file.
